


Matched.

by reygrets



Series: where we meet (reylo smut one shot collection) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reygrets/pseuds/reygrets
Summary: Rey’s supposed to be writing her thesis, not dry humping her boyfriend’s jeans until they’re threadbare.Or; an ABO one-shot where Rey's heat comes at the least convenient times.





	Matched.

Rey’s supposed to be writing her thesis, _not _dry humping her boyfriend’s jeans until they’re threadbare. 

Ben’s insisting that it's fine, that it's natural, and that he’s definitely not in the same position as she is. Because they’re just dating, its casual at best and synchronized cycles like that is an ugly and decidedly _adult _can of worms. 

Well, _he’s _an adult – and so is she, but she’s also _not_, and sometimes his ears turn pink when she kisses him so maybe he isn’t, too. 

He smells like a forest fire and he tastes like big red gum, Rey’s drowning in it, _swimming _in it, a toxic cocktail of need, of want. It’s making her practically whine and whimper which wasn’t characteristic of her at all. Normally, it's Ben that’s on his knees and praying at the altar of her freckled thighs. 

After all, omega’s have their alpha’s on a very short leash.

“Ben.” She groans throatily against his neck. It's a sharp sound that travels straight through his circulatory system and into his dick. Ben flinches because now she’s sitting on it and the added pressure in conjunction with that _smell _— 

A growl rises from someplace in his chest, “Don’t. I–” He’s blushing again. 

Rey, this slip of a girl who somehow takes up too much space on his lap, in this room, in his _life_. She’s swallowing it whole with her needy little breaths that lap out hotly against his adam’s apple. 

He’s going to die like this. With a painful erection and Rey’s cunt soaking through her light wash denim.

“You what?” She’s nuzzling sleepily against his scent gland, letting it wash over her in calming, heady waves. Its not particularly helpful, what with her previous intentions set on completing at _least _this next foray’s outline – and now her mind’s blank of anything that isn’t the pressure of his cock where it's trapped between them. 

Ben chokes on his next breath but manages to speak in a low whisper. “I uh, I think I’m in rut.” He can feel Rey tense against him, 

“You either _are_. Or you _aren’t_.” She speaks in a clipped hiss, because her heat was hers and if he’s – then _that _means – body chemistry is currently triumphing over Rey’s compulsion towards independence. 

“I am.” Ben sounds almost like he’s afraid of Rey ( he is ). 

Flinching, waiting for her inevitable rejection because they _aren’t _good at this part yet. 

The _feelings_. They’re good at the kissing, the fucking, even holding hands but they’re both emotionally stunted, grown-ass adults and now they’re about to be mates. Which, as luck would have it, is a notoriously permanent affair. 

_Peachy_. 

“Fine.” Like she’s signing a contract to copulate. 

Not _exactly _the romantic preamble Ben’s hindbrain is hoping for, but he’s just happy he gets Rey in any capacity. 

Rey wriggles off of him, thighs chaffing together as some sort of passive way to get stimulation. It's not effective, but she can’t seem to stop moving long enough to care. 

When she reaches for his hands to coax him to follow her, Instead Ben slips them up her arms, down her waist and hoists her over his shoulder – the display of strength makes Rey’s protests die in her throat, replaced instead by a yelp, and then a moan. 

Its an alpha thing, his _power_; the muscles that lattice over his ribs, his chest, over his shoulders and across his back. Ben’s a beautiful specimen and if Rey had a quarter of her mental faculties remaining she’d remind him of that. Instead, he’s thrown her haphazardly onto the mattress ( it sits low, not on a frame or even a box spring, but Rey’s not inclined to complain ), and stripped off his shirt with an ungainly quickness that’s telling of his own need, rising to meet Rey’s. 

He might be at a physical advantage, but Rey’s absolutely and entirely in control. The moment he kneels over her on the bed, he’s putty.

Rey runs her palms over his chest, marveling at the structure of it before she’s cupping his chin roughly, and dragging his lips down to meet hers. “At the risk of sounding dramatic –” She’s panting into his mouth. “If you don’t knot me I’m probably going to die.” 

The sound that draws from Ben is unholy, half a snarl, a growl, if a mountain could howl. Rey keens in surprise when he grabs her hips, and flips her over to press her chest into the mattress with his own warm against her back. “Say please.” He’s enjoying this. He’s never been given an inch of control and now he’s scrambling for a mile. Rey lets him have it, because, well, the promise of her impending demise and all –

“Please.” Rey whines, biting uselessly at his forearm that’s come to rest under her chin, supporting her head as he bows himself over her. 

“Please what?” He’s asking for trouble, but Rey’s not in a position to dictate ( _literally_, and instinctively –) 

She groans; a long, broken sound. “Ben please fuck me.”

That’s all it takes before the whish of his zipper and his jeans are kicked away. The momentary absence of his warm frame boxing her in leaves her feeling … hollow, empty in some way that she shouldn’t. But there she was, tears threatening to break free of her lashes, because she wanted her alpha back.

He’s only a foot away. This is absurd and she hates it but then —

_Oh_. 

The head of his cock, swollen nearly to bruising, presses against her sopping cunt. Omega slick painting her thighs in a tableau of a baser being, but she cannot for the life of her imagine why that’s anything but what she should be. What she _is_. 

“_Fuck_.” Rey didn’t mean to scream it, the tail end of her exclamation is buried in the crook of his arm. 

The stretch is too much, almost, almost, _almost _– he presses in slowly, reserved, and as each inch is lost to her tight, wet heat, Ben kisses a notch in her spine, working his way up as he sheaths himself inside of her, his Rey. 

He loves her. 

He almost says it but is stopped short by the mind-whiting sensation of her clamped down around him. Their physiological design, symbiotic, perfect. Kismet. 

She’s made for him, he thinks. 

Ben has to catch his breath for a moment, leaving welts on the feminine curve of her hips from how tightly he’s clutching at them. He’s shaking. Because she’s perfect, she’s perfect and he’s going to fuck her until they’re both ruined, but mostly until he’s too tired to say something stupid. 

Like the fact that she’s perfect. And he’s thinking about love, and affection, while balls deep in her cunt.

_What kind of fucking alpha- –_

“Move, Ben.” Rey’s husky order breaks him from the trap of his thoughts, and his hips stutter to life. 

The cadence is slow at first. They’ve fucked plenty before this, but not while she was in heat, and he’d carefully kept his mediocre knot from pressing inside. This … this … was threatening to burn him, consume him, hollow him out and replace everything with how she feels. Each thrust quickened his pulse, the drag of her cunt over him was _maddening_. He reaches around, realizing how badly his hand shakes, and uses that to paw rough fingers at her clit, trying to bring her over the edge as many times as he can.

Rey’s first orgasm almost stops his heart altogether. She goes boneless underneath him, whimpering his name amid a slew of curses and praise like some sort of mantra to the Orgasm God, because it's rattling her smaller frame against his. Her cunt tightened so hard Ben has to growl through his teeth and bite his lip to bleeding to keep himself from spilling inside her.

He doesn’t stop then, though, only adopts a punishing pace that has them both slick with sweat and Rey’s rapidly pooling arousal. The sun slats through the cheap plastic blinds that cover the window by her bed, it's warming the room that’s already an amalgam of friction, tension, and _literal _heat. 

The next time she cums, Ben falls quickly after. Lewd slaps of skin on skin are punctuated by his rip-roaring snarl as his final thrusts press the over-swollen knot at the base of his cock into her, locking him to his mate while his ardor pulses in thick, hot waves. He can feel it filling her, feel the intensity of her heat recede ( for the time being ), and he collapses sideways with his arms crisscrossed over her breasts, dragging Rey down with him.

Usually, she kicks him off, claims he’s a fucking furnace and the last thing she needs after a good fuck. But this time, she’s wriggling closer ( maybe it's just … the thing… you know .. they’re stuck – ) but she’s making soft little sounds that aren’t quite a purr, and Ben finds a rumble rolling through him. Contentment. Peace. 

“Do you think I can get a doctor’s note for an extension on my thesis’ deadline? Sorry, I can’t write an essay I'm stuck on my boyfriend’s dick?”

Ben laughs.

He’s hopelessly in love. 


End file.
